Missing X, Part One
by CrosserX
Summary: Scott wakes up and the X-Men are gone! Now he has to track them down in their new, sapien lives, and trigger their abilities! But the Avengers are having the same issues...Jean/Scott, Rouge/Remy, Peter/MJ, Matt/Elektra - and so on. T for language and SC.
1. Scott: Waking Up

I knew something was wrong when I woke up.

I stretched, feeling the sunlight streaming through the window. Smiling, I reached beside me to feel for her long, red hair and soft skin like I did every morning.

She wasn't there.

Frowning, I put my sunglasses on. But when I opened my eyes, I didn't see the normal red haze like I had since I was fifteen years old. I saw . . . _color._

I took the chance – I yanked off my sunglasses, and I gasped. No destructive red beam, no red. Just color.

But then I felt it welling up in my eyes. I held it back the best I could, but it burst through. Breaking my lamp, I slid my glasses back on.

"Jean?" I called.

I noticed something, then – there was no pillow on the right side of the bed, where Jean always slept. There were no perfume bottles on the vanity – no make up or hair products. I hastily opened her side of the closet – nothing. I looked in the bathroom. One toothbrush, one brand of mens shampoo, no tampons or contacts. I shook my head, and I felt a bit panicked.

I opened the door. "Jean?" I went down the hall, knocking on Logan's door. "Logan?" I called. "Hey, Logan, have you seen Jean?" I twisted the door open.

No beer cans, no messed up blanket. It was clean, like no one had ever lived there. I shook my head. Was someone playing a joke?

Holding my breath, I opened Emmas door – still empty, like the other rooms.

I ran my hands through my hair.

I ran to the kitchen. Opening the cabinets, there was enough food for one person – not for a school of Mutant teenagers.

_Even Professor Xaviers office was empty. _

I sat down in the empty, lonely living room, and put my head in my hands. There was mail there.

Scott C. Summers

1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center

North Salem, New York, 10560

They all said Scott Summers. Not Charles Xavier.

I grabbed a phone book and the telephone.


	2. Scott: Frilly Approns and Optic Blasts

I stepped out of the truck, waving the guy who had given me a ride off. He nodded, and the old rusty pick up fired up and rolled away. I looked at the slip of paper, then back up at the little house. It was small, with a sagging porch and a tin roof. Cactus grew around it. Amado, Arizona. This is the address I found after four months of trying to find the X-Men (with no luck).

I walked up the walk way, pushing the creaky gate open. I knocked on the door, which was cracked. Smooth country music poured from inside. I knocked, and a gruff voice called "It's open!"

I entered, and looked around –small living room, mismatched furniture, but clean and cozy.

He appeared in the doorway, and he looked exactly as he always had – side burns, stubble, short and muscular in jeans and a plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows. I blinked, realizing he was wearing an apron with frills on it and a large, wooden spoon in his hand. He smiled, no recognition showing.

I swallowed. "Um, hey."

His smile widened. "Hi, there. Can I help you?"

"I, um. Yeah, just hold on." I took out my phone, snapped a picture of him in the frilly apron, and stuck it back in my pocket.

He just kept smiling. "Must be a tourist, right? I'm a native here. Wifes from New York. You want something to eat?"

Bewildered, I followed him to the kitchen.

"Names James Howlett, but my friends call me Logan," he said.

I blinked again. When he turned, I drew my fist back, punching him in the shoulder. He turned and looked at me, and I winced. "Sorry."

He smiled again. "Hey, accidents happen, right? You like tacos? I make my own salsa."

I sat down at the table, putting my head in my hands. "This isn't happening."

"Logan?" A familiar voice called. She appeared in the door, and I caught my breath. She looked like she always did – long red curls, striking green eyes, wearing jeans and a white shirt. She smiled at me, setting down two grocery bags on the table. "Hello," she said to me, kissing Logan's face.

"Logan," I said desperately. "Come on – do you really not recognize me? Jeannie?"

She smiled politely. "I'm Jean Howlett," she said.

I stood up. "This is crazy." I grabbed her, dipped her, and kissed her as passionately as I could. She struggled, then relaxed, kissing me back.

She broke away. "Scott. . . where. . .?"

"Hey!" Logan said. "I don't think-"

I spun around, pulling my sunglasses off, and hit him full blast. He went flying through the wall.

Jean sighed. "You didn't have to destroy the house."

We ran outside, where Logan laid, his body smoking. "Logan?" Jean asked.

His eyes popped open, found me, and he growled. "Now you got it comin' bub!" He jumped up, his claws extended.

"Calm down!" I snapped. "I only did it to get some damn sense into you."

"Full blast, Summers! You didn't need to hit me that damn HARD!"

"It worked," I said dryly.

"Because mutation manifests at stressful moments," Jean observed.

"So are you two back to normal?" I demanded. "Then take those freaking wedding bands off, will you?"

Jean didn't hesitate – she seemed amused but thoughtful at the same time. Logan was more grudging to remove his, but he did.

"The hell happened?" Logan demanded, throwing the apron on the ground.

"I woke up and you were all gone."

"How?"

"Good question. I found Logan on the net." I shook my head. "Everyone else is still gone, besides us."

"The Professor?" Jean asked.

I shook my head. "I couldn't locate him."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Logan said. He examined his claws. "Lets get to work."


	3. Jean: Jean Visits The LeBeaus

"I've got this one, Scott," I said, kissing his cheek. "Wait here."

I got out of the rental, and looked up at the house. It was white, with a garden and two port garage. I looked at the mailbox. It said LeBeau in pretty, cursive letters.

Walking up the porch steps, I rang the doorbell. A moment later, a little girl opened the door.

"Um, hi, there," I said with a smile, leaning down. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Annalisa. Are you looking for someone?"

"Um, yeah. I'm looking for Rouge?"

Her brow creased. "Who?"

"Anna?"

She turned. "Auntie Anna! There's a lady here to see you!"

A moment later, she appeared. She wore grey slacks and a stylish shirt and scarf, and tall heels. Her long, brown hair was pulled back, streak free. She smiled politely. "Can I help you?" She asked with no accent whatsoever.

"Anna, right? Anna Darkholme?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

I tilted my head. "Jean? Jean Grey."

"What can I do for you, Ms. Grey?"

"I, uh. Is your husband home?"

She nodded, turning. "Come on it. Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh, please," I said.

I followed her into the kitchen. "Annalisa, go get your uncle, please," Rouge – Anna? – said.

She handed me a glass of lemonade, and we sat down. A moment later, Remy came into the kitchen, looking very neat and unlike himself. "Can I help you?"

"Neither one of you recognize me?" I asked.

They looked at each other, then back at me. "I'm sorry," Rouge/Anna said politely. "But no."

I sighed; I was going to have to do this the hard way.

Reaching out with my mind, I used my telepathy to project memeories into their heads. They gasped, and Rouge lashed out, falling to the floor. I crouched beside her.

"Ah, hell nah!" she snapped, sitting up. "What is this bull? I got memories over memories! Is this like . . ." She looked at me, her eyes wide. "Jean, is this like M Day?"

"No," I said. "I don't think so. Something else is going on." I looked around. "Remy?"

"'Dis init how I thought I'd be startin out my day," he groaned.

"At least you two are already married anyway," I said. "I was married to Logan."

Rouge gave a dry laugh. "Oh, I bet Scottie _looooooved_ that."

"He hit him full blast."

I quickly explained everything that had happened, and Remy stood. "Some 'ow, we got ourselves a niece."

"Well, call up your imaginary sista, suga," Rouge said, taking the scarf off. "Lets get back to the mansion so I can dye ma damn hair."


	4. Logan: Kittys, Spideys, and Devils

"I didn't think-" _Skint _"That finding the others-" _Slash _"Would be so damn hard._"_

I retracted my claws, looking at Rouge. "You sure this is the right place?"

"That's what the address is," she said, putting one hand on her hip. "This looks like the place she could live."

"I haven't known you to be wrong much before," I finally agreed. I had to slash through the gate to get to the large, closed off mansion.

She grinned, taking my arm. "Ah, suga, it's good to be back with the team."

"You ain't POed 'bout having your powers back?"

She shrugged. "Comes with the package, sweetie." She looked at me darkly. "Why, are you?"

I shrugged, knocking on the door. "Sometimes the claws ain't worth the heartache."

"Whaddaya mean?"

I smiled, kissing the top of her head, where her new highlights touched her scalp. "Nothin', kid. It's good to have ya back."

She grinned, and the door opened. "Kitty!" Rouge exclaimed.

"Yeah?" Kitty's hair had been grown out long and straightened, with bangs and make-up. She wore a dress, and laughter came from inside.

Rouge looked disappointed. "Ya don't know me?"

"What I do know is that there is white trailer trash on my porch," she sniffed. "And if you don't leave, I'm calling the cops."

"Kitty Cat," I said, while Rouge looked hurt. "I know you don't recognize us, but ya gotta trust me – we're you're family."

"That's it," she said. "There is now way I'm related to any redneck hicks like you, and I know you're just after my money. I'm calling the police."

I looked at Rouge, and she nodded. _SKINT._

Kitty screamed, jumping back, and went right the wall of the house, falling into her garden.

"Kitty?" I said, jumping over the railing.

She looked up, groaning. "Logan?"

"You okay, there, sug?" Rouge asked, a bit coldly.

Kitty groaned again, hitting her hand against her face. "I'm so sorry, Rouge, I didn't mean any of it! What. . . what happened?"

"We don' know yet," Rouge told her. "All the X-Men went poof and that was it."

"I . . . Peter?"

"Haven't found him yet," I grunted. "So far it's just Slim, Jeannie, Rouge, Remy, and me. And now you."

"What about the Avengers?" She asked sharply, standing up. "Are any of them missing?"

"Dunn," I said. "I haven't been able to contact anyone."

"Hey, speak of the Devil – literally."

I spun around, battle stance, just to relax. "Parker!" I snapped. "And Murdock! What are you doin' here?"

"Looking for you," Peter said, crossing his arms. "Sounds like you're having the same trouble as us."

"I woke up and had no idea what was going on," Matt said, frowning. "So I contacted Peter. Had to beat some sense into him."

"What about Luke?" I asked. "And Cap and Stark?"

"Still looking. So," Peter said. "How about a team up?"


	5. MJ: Avenging Twins

When Peter asked me to come with him for this, I was flattered.

Then freaked.

I wasn't an Avenger; I wasn't even a Super. I was just the girlfriend.

But as we walked up the steps and onto the stoops, and rang the buzzer, her voice came out fuzzy.

"Yes?"

"Wanda?" I asked. "Its MJ."

"Who?"

"Mary Jane. Watson."

Silence on her end – I looked at Peter, who nodded.

"Can I come in?"

More silence, and then the lock popped. We made our way up to the apartment. When she answered the door, she was almost unrecognizable. Her hair was cut in a short, curly bob, and she wore leather pants and a baby T. Her ears were pierced all the way up.

"W-Wanda," I said. I had been to the Avengers meetings with Peter; Wanda and I were friends. But I had never seen her look like this.

She tilted her head. "Do you need anything?"

I looked at Peter, who shrugged, then back at Wanda. "Where's Pietro?"

"Who?"

"Y-your twin brother."

"I don't have any brothers. Sisters, either."

I looked at Peter. "Pete?"

"I got it," he sighed, starting back down the steps. I turned back to Wanda and smiled.

"So do you have coffee?"

* * *

><p>Swinging through the city, I landed on top of the roof. "Maximoff's done well for himself," I said aloud, looking at the large penthouse.<p>

I swung through the window, hearing classical music. "Pietro?" I called. "Oh, Pietro? Honey, I'm home!"

He came out in a nice suit, an expensive cell phone pressed to his ear. "No, I told you not to place the order until after I went over the forms, okay? I want to make sure it's exactly the right amount. No – listen to me, Justin! Don't do it. Alright. Thank you." He hung up, tossing the phone onto the sofa. "What, are you here to rob me?" he asked nonchalantly, looking at me before grabbing his diet soda from the table and chugging. "Go ahead – take what you want to, I'll replace it. Oh, but could you leave the TV? A new episode of Vampire Diaries comes on tonight, and I particularly enjoy Nina Dobrevs performance."

"Take the – what? I'm not here to rob you!" I frowned. "Why, do you get robbed often?"

He shrugged. "Eh."

"Okay, whatever. That's not why I'm here."

"Who are you?"

I hit my head against the wall. "Oi."

I took a deep breath. "My name is Peter Parker, also known as Spiderman, and I'm a part of the Avengers, and so are and your sister Wanda, who doesn't even know you exist right now because somehow the entire worlds heroes and possibly villains went screwy so the X-Men and Daredevil and MJ and myself are trying to find everybody and help them realize who they are and what they can do and I really need you to come with me right now so I can finish this really long sentence."

He cocked his head, clinking his ice in his cup. "Is that all?"

"Yeah. It is."

"Alright then," he said, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Let's go."

I blinked. "That's – that's it? You're just coming with me, just like that?"

"Yeah, I'm open to new concepts."

I frowned. "Um. Okay. Let's go."

When we got to the apartment, he followed me upstairs.

MJ opened the door, and Pietro and I stepped into the apartment. "Wanda?" I called. "Can you come out here for a minute?"

"What now –?" She stopped, staring at Pietro, who stared back. After a few seconds of a glazed glance, Wanda clutched her head, and her knees gave out. Pietro grabbed her, holding her up.

"Be strong, Wanda. Do not let it anger you. We will figure it out."

"I do not understand," Wanda sobbed. "Everything is so strange – so painful . . ."

"We have to find the others," Pietro said, helping his shaky sister up.

Wanda nodded in agreement, her face paled.

"So," I said, crossing my arms. "Where the hell can we find Tony Stark?"


	6. Jean: Grace Stark

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Scott, Peter, Mary Jane, and I stood outside the school parking lot. I looked at my husband. "This is where she works? Even in a different life, and she manages to still manipulate others?"

"We don't know the situation yet," Scott reminded me.

"Yeah," Peter said. "For all we know she could be a fat lunch lady."

"If I were only so lucky," I mumbled.

We went inside, listening to the secretary chatter on the phone. I saw a teacher log and pulled it towards me.

**Pre K. – Amy Tanners**

**Kindergarten – Grace Stark**

**First Grade – Andrew Clarke**

**Second Grade – Hannah Kay**

**Third Grade – Tyler Clarke**

**Fourth Grade – Miranda Sign**

**Fifth Grade – Carle Mayes**

I shook my head, not knowing where to begin.

The secretary finally hung up, and Scott leaned forward. "Excuse me," he said. "We're looking for a Ms. Emma Frost?"

The secretary looked bewildered, then snapped her fingers. "You mean Grace, right? Her first name is Emma. I think she was a Frost – or was it First?"

"Was?" MJ asked.

"Yeah – she got married last year. Really good looking guy."

I looked at the list again, and my eyes about popped out of my head. "STARK? EMMA FROST MARRIED TONY STARK?"

"Yeah, Tony. That's his name," the secretary said. "Do you need to see Grace?"

"We're cousins," Scott said.

"In that case, go on down to the room. Its room 3."

"Thanks."

Peter went down the hall muttering about Tony, MJ was quiet, I was pissed, and Scott lead the way. When we got to the room, there were kids running around and yelling. In the middle of the class room, a pretty woman was reading to some of the quieter ones. Her long, brown hair was hanging over her shoulders, and her eyes were a soft blue. She wore tasteful clothing – a white dress shirt and black slacks with heels – and she smiled warmly a lot.

". . . and the three little pigs lived happily ever after. The end." She looked up at us four newcomers, and stood. "Can I help you folks?" She asked with a warm smile.

"Oh my God." I looked her up and down. "She turned into mini-me!"

"Do I know you?"

"Blast her like you blasted Logan!" I said to Scott, perhaps a little too eagerly.

Scott scowled at me, and then turned back to Emma. "Actually, Jean, I think you should take this one."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You two have a . . . strong bond."

"Yeah. But not a good one." Nevertheless, I sighed and reached into Emma's mind.

Whenever I dove into Emma Frosts thoughts, it was like the sensation of cold water hitting you suddenly. This time, all I felt was affection and warmth. _If only she'd stay this way . . ._ I sighed. No, the X-Men needed her.

I was standing in Emmas head. Red, pink, green, orange flowers covered the land. Trees were healthy. The weather was warm and inviting. Emma stood across from Jean.

"Where are we?" Emma gasped. "Who are you people?"

"We're in your thoughts, sickly enough," I replied dryly. I looked around. "Like what you've done to the place."

"I don't understand whats happening to me!

"Let me remind you, 'darling,'" I said, summoning all my power. With a screech, a large, ruby and fire Phoenix reached out, getting taller and wider. It showed memories in its midst's; Emma's first mutant nosebleed, finding her brother after he tried to hang himself, Astrid Bloom messing with her mind, meeting Sebastian Shaw, going up against the X-Men, joining the X-Men . . . a diamond glittered in my Phoenixes eyes.

I shut the bird down, watching Emma. "Emma?" I asked cautiously.

After a few awkward moments of silence, Emma said quietly, "Whoever did this, I will find them and rip their heart out with my hand."

I watched around me as the flowers and green grass disappeared – the leaves fell from the trees, and a layer of snow covered everything. Diamonds glittered everywhere, on trees, replacing flowers. A cold wind ripped through me, and Emma and I were suddenly back in the class room.

"Why are we all standing around?" Emma snapped, standing straighter. "Lets go find my 'Husband', and then I'm dying my hair and getting my nose back!"


	7. Emma: Returning to Normal

I haven't always been cold. Nobody has ever really bothered to dig deep into what made me the way I am – an Ice Queen. More preferably, a White Queen.

But if I felt any different, I guess I wouldn't be an X-Man.

It was all _her_ fault, really, and I knew what was happening here, with all the heroes and possibly villains: Astrid had woken up from her telepathically-induced coma.

I didn't explain this on the way back to the mansion. I didn't need to – not now. Jean read my mind, and she could explain it.

I got in the limo I had called. "Crystal Ball Salon on twelfth, driver."

I shoved the door open to the salon, slapping my credit card on the desk. "I don't have an appointment, but put the extra thousand on my card."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"And get a manicurist – and I'd like cucumber water."

"What do you want done today, Ms . . .?" The stylist started.

"Stark, I guess."

"Ms. Stark? What can I do?"

"I want it dyed blond – don't make me look like an idiot. While you're at it, only trim it a bit – straightened, as well. I'd also like my eyebrows done. And where the hell is my manicurist?"

After I had myself valued, I ordered my clothing. I headed back to the mansion, and changed into the most revealing outfit I had – thankfully my plastic surgery was still intact, other than my poor, poor nose, but I could fix that tomorrow.

I went downstairs, Jean looked at me and rolled her eyes, while Logan joined me. "How's it going?" he asked.

"It's going," I replied. "Whose home?"

"Scotty, Jean, Kitty, Remy, Rouge, me, and you. Peter, MJ, Matt, Wanda, and Pietro are working on the Avengers."

"And my husband?"

Logan grinned. "No word on that."

I sighed. "Well, I guess _I'll _have to take care of it."

I found the address, and pulled up. Fishing in my purse, I found a key to the apartment, and shoved it open.

"Grace!" Came his voice from a room. "I've done it! I've finally found a way too –" He stopped in the doorway, squinting at me. "Gracie?"

"Sort of," I replied.

"What happened to your voice?"

"I remembered I was from Boston."

"Don't you think that outfit is sort of . . . I dunno, revealing?"

"Oh, Tony Stark," I said, touching the side of his face. I slapped it slightly. "You are not the Iron Man I know."

I burst into his mind, shoving his current memories into his old ones.

"Uhnn!" He fell over, clutching the door. "I – Emma Frost. I married Emma Frost."

"Don't sound so disgusted."

"I'm not. I just . . ." He shook his head. "This can't be happening. Cap?"

"I haven't any idea, darling."

"We'll have to find him. Where the hell is my suit?"

In the storage cell that said "Failed Projects," we found scraps of his suit.

"This blows," he muttered.

"Dear oh dear, this is bad," I agreed.

"I'll have to find a way to reprogram it." He looked down at his chest. "Guess this alternate reality couldn't fix me, huh?"

"Don't worry about it," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "I'll get you some wine."

"Thanks," he said, as I went upstairs. I found some cheap wine, poured us each a glass, and went back downstairs. "You know," I said, handing him a glass as he inspected his work. "It's not that bad."

"Well, it wouldn't be, but I'm missing a lot of parts."

"You'll get it finished."

"Eventually."


End file.
